


Closed Circuit

by Greensilver (Trelkez)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-17
Updated: 2008-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-02 17:56:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trelkez/pseuds/Greensilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Look at the pair of you," the Doctor says, his voice low, close, nearly at Jack's ear. "Like children up past bedtime."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closed Circuit

They're both soaking wet and filthy, covered in so much mud that their hair is thick with it. Rose is slightly more awake than Jack, so he lets her lead as they stumble into the shower, one hand wrapped around his wrist to guide him.

When she lets go to turn on the water, he instinctively reaches out to touch her hip, needing that small bit of contact. They don't undress, just stand under the spray with their eyes closed, drifting, half-aware, until a low, amused voice says: "That's enough of _that_." The water goes suddenly, shockingly cold, and Jack's eyes fly open in time with Rose's sharp noise of protest.

The water warms again, just enough to be tolerable. When Jack finally forces his eyes to focus, the Doctor is leaning against the tiled wall just outside the spray, looking damp and clean and far, far more awake than he ought to be. Jack stares at him, willing him to look just a bit tired, just a bit run down, and Rose's expression must not be too dissimilar; the Doctor smiles and steps back, out of range, as though he thinks one of them might drag him under the water.

"All right, clothes off," the Doctor says, and Jack can't help but smile at _that_. "Not -- Jack, I'll thank you to keep your pants on, if you think you can manage it."

"Can't order me to undress and not expect--" The rest of that sentence gets lost somewhere, and Jack shrugs, knowing they'll figure it out.

"S'true," Rose mumbles.

Jack nods once in her direction to say,_ see? _

Her hip shifts beneath his hand, and after a moment he realizes she's moving closer, pulling him back to lean on the wall. She slumps against his side, her head coming to rest on his shoulder, and it's the easiest thing in the world to pillow his cheek on her head and close his eyes.

The next time the Doctor says something vague but exciting like_ an entire planet of sentient soil-based beings_, Jack is going to be able to automatically translate it to _an entire planet of mud monsters_. He'll know better, next time. He'll -- what is it? He'll hear between the lines. See between the lines. Something involving lines.

Someone is tugging at his shirt, making quick work of its buttons. He might not be truly awake, but that's never stopped him from letting another being undress him before; he knows how this works. His body shifts automatically, pulling an arm out of a sleeve here and lifting a foot out of a trouser leg there. Rose stirs against him, straightening just long enough to let her shirt slide up over her head.

"Look at the pair of you," the Doctor says, his voice low, close, nearly at Jack's ear. "Like children up past bedtime."

"Hmm," Jack says, which is a not entirely well-communicated protest about that being unfair, after two straight days on the run from mud monsters.

Hands slide into his hair, and strong, wide fingers start to massage his scalp. Underneath the pungent odor of wet soil, Jack smells something sweet, fruit or flowers or both. He gives himself over to the Doctor's care, drifting, drifting, boneless and compliant when the Doctor's hands tilt his head into the spray, lightly tousle his hair, gently let go.

The Doctor lifts Rose's head from Jack's shoulder, and after a moment, she makes a low noise of sleepy satisfaction -- getting the same treatment, he guesses. Jack forces his eyes open just enough to see the Doctor stroking her hair, working out mud-locked tangles as he goes. Rose smiles faintly, pressing a little closer to Jack as she leans into the Doctor's touch.

Jack is -- criminally -- too tired to properly take advantage of this, but he's not so tired that he can't bend just enough to press a kiss to her temple, letting his lips rest there. The Doctor touches a hand to Jack's cheek, just that, no more, and for a moment they're a closed circuit, the three of them, complete.

"That'll do," the Doctor says, dropping his hand to clasp Jack's arm. "Come on. Bed for both of you."

Jack can't prevent another smile. The Doctor heaves a long-suffering sigh, but he sounds amused, underneath it.

The Doctor guides him this time, lightly pulling him down the corridor, and at the end of the line is a softer, pinker bed than Jack is used to. Rose climbs in without question, wet hair and wet clothes and all, so Jack follows, curling up behind her, fitting his body to hers.

"Jack, you're -- no, no, nevermind," and there's another sigh at the end of it, just as warm-exasperated as the first.

Jack isn't at all surprised when there's a dip in the bed behind him -- it feels only right that the Doctor should be there. If anything, he's surprised when the Doctor doesn't immediately press close, slide an arm around both of them; the Doctor doesn't even touch him, just lies there.

He slides a leg back to hook a foot around the Doctor's calf, trying to pull him in. The Doctor makes a soft sound that's a smile, somehow, and just barely touches the space between Jack's shoulders. "If you think I'm cuddling up to sopping wet--"

Rose's voice is remarkably clear. "_Oi_. You've cuddled up to worse."

"Name one," the Doctor says, his palm flattening over Jack's skin, soothing away the insult.

"Slimy purple," Jack shoots back, and pauses, relatively certain there was more to that argument.

"Egg planet," Rose agrees, completing the thought. "Great big purple -- slimy--"

The Doctor laughs, the sound fond and a bit helpless, and then he's there, solid and warm at Jack's back. He stretches an arm across them both, like Jack instinctively knew he would, and his hand settles on Rose's hip, just beneath the bend of Jack's arm.

Rose tugs Jack's hand up, bringing their loosely entwined fingers to her lips. Her kiss turns into a yawn, and she smiles against his skin, her mouth curving slowly, weighted down and weary.

Jack's exhaustion is bone-deep, but he fights to stay awake, wanting to preserve this -- the three of them together, the pair of them anchoring him on either side. He has a feeling this is a one-time deal, and he won't get it again; he doesn't want to give it up so soon.

"Sleep now," the Doctor says, the words an order, softly spoken.

Jack drifts, and dreams.


End file.
